


Wear Them to the End

by welcometolotr



Series: The Distant Ages [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Annoying Little Brothers, Brothers, Children, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Gen, Palantiri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometolotr/pseuds/welcometolotr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seven seeing-stones brought over from Númenor in the Second Age are well known to most, but what about their predecessors? During the Years of the Trees, Fëanor made palantíri for each of his sons in order to communicate across Valinor. Of course, when you give little marbles to young children, they're bound to get lost quite easily...</p><p>Featuring loving father!Fëanor and grumpy teenager!Curufin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wear Them to the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyBrooke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/849590) by [LadyBrooke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke). 



“Ata! Ata!”  
  
Fëanaro sighed and looked up from his work as his youngest sons burst into the study, hair messy and clothes stained by grass. “What is the matter this time?”

Ambarussa seemed unsure of their news for a brief moment, as if they should not tell him. But Pityo nudged Telvo and both spoke up in unison, looking at their father with guilty expressions. “We lost our marbles!” Telvo glanced at the workbench in the corner of the room with balls of glass scattered over it and amended, “the newest ones, Ata. With the blue bits.”  
  
Fëanaro placed his tools on the table and gave the twins a long stare. “Your begetting day gifts.”  
  
Pityo nodded, guilt intensifying at the sound of another sigh from their father. “We didn’t mean to! They’re just very small, and they slip out of our pockets…”  
  
The father of seven nodded, well used to such excuses. “It’s alright. Your brothers have all had the same problem and I had thought to do this sooner, but clearly I became sidetracked every time. Telvo, come around the desk here, and Pityo go fetch Curufinwë, I believe he’s in the kitchen. I might as well do this for everyone in the house!”  
  
His sons split away, the elder racing out the door and around the corner while the younger walked around the desk and followed his father to the workbench. Fëanaro lifted Telvo up onto his lap so the child could get a clear view of what he was doing – this was his jeweler’s bench, not his proper workshop, so the most dangerous thing on the table was a pair of pliers and a clamp. “Now child, what I’m going to do here is something I should have thought of when Maitimo was a boy. I’ve taken far too long as it is, and you all keep losing your palantíri. I’m going to make simple bracelets for the two of you, and we’ll see what your older brother wants his set into.” Explaining his every movement when crafting jewelry and gems was a habit he had gotten into with Arafinwë long ago, after his brother had wandered into the forge one too many times, innocently wanting to know everything that was going on. Taking thin but sturdy bracelets that he had made as plain gifts and then forgotten about, he picked out two small glass balls from a dish in the corner and began the process of setting one into the metal of each bangle.

Pattering feet and heavier thumps heralded the arrival of Pityo and Curufinwë, the latter being half-dragged by the child. “Ata, tell Pityo he can’t just drag me off from what I’m doing all the time! I was busy!”  
  
Fëanaro chuckled and shifted the chair so he could show the eldest what he was making. “Busy ‘examining’ the cook’s prized pastries, I’m sure. Now here, would you like a bracelet or something else for your palantír? I’m looking to make something practical, so a necklace or armlet would work as well. I’ve also made new stones, so you can pick out whatever size you’d like.”

His dark son sat down heavily on the desk chair and leaned on the hard wood, the perfect picture of a bored teenager. “A ring. I want a ring. With the smallest stone you can make, I guess. You know, I could have done this myself.”  
  
Fëanaro smiled and went back to working on the bracelets, mindful of his youngest peering from between his arms. “Of course. But don’t begrudge me the few things that I can make for you that you may wear until the ending of the world. You all are my most precious creations, after all. It is up to me to make sure that you are safe, and if that means giving you a way to keep your palantíri with you at all times, then so be it.”

Curvo glared up at his father, his chin now on the desk. “But that means I have to wear it all the time then! Ata!” He let out an anguished groan as Pityo climbed onto his back and happily began taking out his ponytail.

“Curufinwë, it is just a ring, and yes you will wear it all the time. I’ll even find a purple stone so that it matches all of your favorite robes. And Pityo, be nice to your brother’s hair.”

He didn’t really mind so much when his children interrupted his days.

-x-  
  

**Author's Note:**

> LadyBrooke and I are having too much fun with the palantíri...Inspired by "can’t you just picture little!Ambarussa losing theirs all the time, and Fëanor finally being like “EVERYONE BRING ME THOSE THINGS, I’M PUTTING THEM IN JEWELRY AND YOU ARE ALL GOING TO WEAR THEM ALL THE TIME.”" along with her fic Seven (god can we put these in a series or something? they're great).


End file.
